King of Snow by Leviosa (smallest ebook reader .txt) 📕

King of Snow

A lonely bus stop. It's dark, the lantern illuminates but a small circle of leaves on the ground. The station contains a rusty bench and a little roof. In the orange lamplight one can make out a tiny plant, craning its neck to the heavens, which are starlit. Attached to the roof is the timetable, scratched and smudged, barely readable. There's only one bus stopping here, only a couple of times a day. The street is uneven and muddy from the rain of the past days, the leaves cover the path that leads to the stop. It's dark, without any lights, only trees left and right. Every once in a while there's a passing train illuminating the scene, as the road abuts the train tracks for some time.
On the bench under the roof there sits a girl, bolt upright, hands on her lap. Silence everywhere, not even the leafless trees rustle in the wind. Cold joins the silence, sneaking up from behind and, once noticed, won't vanish again. Nothing around her moves, she feels alone in the world. All that exists in this moment is the dried grass next to the bench, the mud in the street, the orange lantern and the bus stop. Even the little forest and the path are reduced to blurred backdrop, the rails are anchor and reminder that, in this night, there are still other souls traveling home, even though it is already late. The girl looks up. Opposite her are no houses, either, only fields and behind this darkness. She hears laughter and at first the sound seems unfamiliar to her. It doesn't fit in the silence. Two shadows appear from out of the fields, two teenagers conversing; she wears a knitted cap and fingerless gloves, he carries a big shoulder bag and admiring eyes. They don't take any notice of the girl, position themselves under the roof and she buttons up her jacket, tucks her scarf in place and rubs her hands, blows and doesn't notice either how her breath hangs in the air and finally volatilises as he bends towards her. Her cap slips a bit and she reaches for it, he holds her tight.
They both wait, stomp their feet to banish the cold and wait. The girl watches them the whole time. Her hands have left her lap and rest on the bench now, as if she was on the verge of standing up. The two still don't notice her, fooling about to keep warm, looking at the watch now and then. Their voices penetrate the silence with a cheerfulness much more apt to drive away the cold. Finally the bus can be heard, even before its lights appear. Only the driver is sitting inside, stopping and waiting for his new guests to enter. The door closes, staggering the bus starts moving again, not taking the little forest track, but the uneven road following the rails and is soon out of sight.
The girl watches it pass. Her trunks stand left and right of her under the bench next to the old grass. And still the lantern glows, unimpressed. Nobody sees it, only the girl on the bench at the bus stop. Suddenly she notices movement in the light, as if it had been there all the time. Little shadows dance under the lamp, waft and vanish. They paint a smile on her face. Slowly she takes out her gloves from her coat pocket, bulky mittens, puts them on and stands up, still observing the snow which falls silently on the world, on the lantern, the bus stop, even on the street where it melts away.
It is the first of the year.
She moves a few steps away from the distracting light source and waits, smiling.
„Aren't you tired of the humans yet?“
She turns around.
„Will you come home, Iceprincess?“
He takes her trunks.
„Only for a visit, King of Snow.“, she answers him and lets herself be taken away into his world of frozen water.

Some time later...
A lonely bus stop. It will be bright daylight, the lantern will cast wide shadows on the white ground. Everything will sparkle and glisten in a haze of milky cold, hanging unyielding in the air, the station, the bench and the little roof. In the silver sunlight one will make out a little plant, craning its frozen neck to the opaque heavens. The timetable, covered in a fine layer of what will look like a sugarcoat, won't show his scratches or smudges. At this time of the year, the bus will only stop once a day. The street though will still be uneven, yet not muddy anymore, but sporting little cracked lakes of ice, the leaves will be crinkly pavement to the path that leads to the stop. It will still be penumbral between the trees. This day, the passing trains will be nearly empty and nobody will notice the bleak road that follows the tracks for some time, nor the bench under the roof, where there is not going to be a girl sitting hunched and contemplative fumbling with her scarf. Silence will prevail, nothing will be able to make the slightest sound anymore as the cold celebrates victory. There won't be anything that exists at that moment, neither the dead grass next to the bench, the ice on the street, the hushed lantern nor the bus stop. There will be nobody there to see them, not even the rails account for a remembrance that, this day, there are still other souls traveling to nowhere, even though it will be the middle of the day.
The time will pass unnoticed by any living being, the sun will float across the sky, like any other day in every other world. Unseen by any human eye, not even dancing in the lantern light and adding but little to the glint of the hoarfrost, snow is going to emerge, seemingly out of mere cold air. It will only be tiny bits of ice, like stardust, that appear to be as motionless as the rest of this unchanging eternity.
A girl will be standing beside the lantern with two trunks, one in each hand. She will put them down and watch the snow beginning to dance before her, following the paths her breath will cut into the air. She won't be smiling. She will wait. Wait for the bus to come.
“When will you come home, Iceprincess?”
He will be taking her hands.
“Next time, not only for a visit, King of Snow.”, she will answer him and hold on to his pale fingers, which will glisten in the sunlight.

Nearly a year later...
Still a lonely bus stop. It was dark again, the lantern kept illuminating but a small circle of leaves on the ground. There was the station, consisting of one cracked bench. In the orange lamplight one couldn't make out any living thing. There was no timetable and thus nobody knew whether there were any buses stopping here at all. The street was holey from the rain of the past months, the leaves soggy and mouldy, making the path perilous. It was still cast in darkness with gloomy trees left and right. Every once in a while there was a passing train which illuminates the scene, as the road still abuts the train tracks for some time.
Next to the bench on her trunks there was a girl, sitting bolt upright, hands on her lap. Silence everywhere, not even the leafless trees were rustling in the wind. Cold joined the silence, sneaking up from behind and, once noticed, vanish again. Nothing around her moved, she felt alone in the world. All that existed in this moment were the bench, the mud on the street, the orange lantern and the bus stop. The little forest and the path were blurred, the rails were reminder that, in this night, there were no other souls traveling home, because it was late already. The girl looked up. Opposite her were no houses, either, only fields and behind them darkness. She heard laughter and at first the sound seemed familiar to her. But it didn't fit in the loneliness. A shadow appeared from out of the fields, a young man, talking to his mobile. He wore a knitted scarf and a thick greatcoat, shining black shoes and eyes. He didn't notice the girl, positioned himself next to the cracked bench, opposite her and hung up after a while. Breathing heavily, he unbuttoned his coat and loosened his scarf. Observing, the girl watched him and attentive, he watched back. He stopped his movements and gazed at her. Suddenly, the bus could be heard and before any of the two noticed, it had stopped next to the station. Only the driver was sitting inside, stopping and waiting for his new guests to enter. The door closed, jolting the bus started moving again, not taking the dangerous forest track, but the road following the rails and was soon out of sight.
The girl watched it pass. And still the lantern glowed, unimpressed. Nobody saw it, only the girl on her trunks at the bus stop. Suddenly she saw movement in the light, as if it had been there all the time. Little shadows danced under the lamp, wafted and vanished. They painted a smile on her face. Slowly she took out her gloves from her coat pocket, red satin ones, put them on and stood up, still observing the little dots, which fell silently on the world, on the lantern, the bus stop, even on the street where they added to the mud.
It was rain.
She moved a few steps away from the distracting light source and waited, frowning. She took off her gloves, held up one hand and felt the cool clamminess on her palm, like dust from a nozzle.
One drop of freezing, saline water fell to the ground and all that was left was the bus stop again, now lonely and meaningless.

Publication Date: 10-21-2011

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